


Take me Home

by WeirdV



Series: Let's write some prompts, cause it's fun. [26]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: A FIX IT FIC, Based on a song, Daughter - Home, LISTEN TO IT, M/M, Second chapter is coming, but that will be the last, hah, make up fic, short fic, working at it atm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-05
Updated: 2015-12-06
Packaged: 2018-05-05 04:14:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5360996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeirdV/pseuds/WeirdV
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek doesn’t know what to do anymore. Because they broke up, and he is drunk and dancing and bumping into things.</p><p>And now he bumped into him.</p><p>“You’re wasted” Stiles says, his voice quiet and almost sad, “Are you okay?”</p><p>“No, I’m not” Derek says, his words slurring, “You should – take me home.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Burned out flames should never re-ignite...

Derek doesn’t know what to do anymore. Because they broke up, and he is drunk and dancing and bumping into things.

And now he bumped into him.

“You’re wasted” Stiles says, his voice quiet and almost sad, “Are you okay?”

“No, I’m not” Derek says, his words slurring, “You should – take me home.”

“This isn’t you” Stiles frowns, staring at Derek with his bright brown eyes, “I don’t even recognize you like this.”

“I haven’t really been me since you” he stops midsentence, taking in a deep breath and noticing Stiles’ expression and stance, arms crossed, eyebrow raised. Almost daring him to finish that sentence. And Derek knows he shouldn’t, that it won’t end well if he does.

“Since _I_ left” he corrects. He shouldn’t blame Stiles for his stupidity. He wasn’t to blame for what he was feeling now, it was his own damn fault.

He steps closer, another step – Derek can smell him now, that familiar scent of citrus and fabric softener that always hangs around him. That smell that still hangs in Derek’s clothes, the few he took with him when he left.

He hasn’t slept in days, he’s exhausted. Has been for the past five days, when he told Stiles they should end things between them. That he wasn’t good enough for Stiles. That Stiles could do better, that moving in was probably a mistake, that it was way too soon.

His heart is beating in his chest, rising to his throat where it is pounding, and he can barely breathe with Stiles’ scent filling his nostrils. He never should’ve broken up with Stiles. Never should’ve thought he wasn’t good enough for Stiles, should have been more confident about himself.

“Take me home” he repeats, and Stiles takes another step closer, “I can’t live without you.”

Stiles takes his arm now, leading him outside. They step onto the grass together, and Derek takes in a deep breath, clearing his head.

He stares at Derek, the way he _always_ does. The way that makes Derek believe he’s reading his mind. That he _knows_ Derek hasn’t slept since they broke up. Like he _knows_ how desperately Derek regrets what he said that night, that he wishes he could take it all back. That he knows that Stiles is the only one who _ever_ kept his nightmares away. Like he knows that he still has a part of Derek. That part of Derek is still living inside Stiles’ skin.

He wants to say something else, but he swallows the words and shakes his head. Opting to stare at Stiles instead, and hoping that he can convey all his regrets in his eyes, somehow. That he can convince Stiles to take him back, to take him home, to his house. To their house.

Stiles sighs deeply, and it feels like something shifts between them.

“You” he sighs again, shaking his head and taking Derek’s hand, “Let’s go home.”

“Yes?” Derek asks, feeling so very, very small.

“Yes” Stiles nods, “We’ll talk tomorrow, after you have sobered up.”

“I’m sorry” Derek whispers as Stiles leads him towards the car and holds the door open for him.

“I know” Stiles says, a weak smile, “We’ll be alright. Eventually.”

 

 

(this is the [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nNBtORp20t4)) 


	2. ... but I thought you might

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After such an ending, I guess I had to write how it went after they woke up the following morning.  
> So here you have it

He wakes up with a pounding headache and the smell of citrus filling his nostrils. There’s a glass of water on the nightstand, his jeans are thrown over the chair standing by the door, as is his shirt. He’s still wearing his boxers, and he has a vague memory of taking them off before crawling into the bed. Before Stiles joined him in _their_ bed and they had curled up around each other. He empties the glass of water, grabbing his sweatpants that are still in the closet, and pulling them on before making his way to the kitchen were Stiles will be making coffee.

“Good morning” Stiles smiles weakly at him, he has bags under his eyes and looks exhausted. He looks relieved, in a way, to see Derek standing there in the kitchen, _their kitchen_.

“Is it?” he asks, gratefully taking the cup of coffee Stiles hands and waiting for the inevitable _talk_. The talk that will decide what happens next, because all of his stuff is still here – except for a few pieces of clothing. What happens next? Does he pack up the rest and leave, or does he stay.

He really wants to stay.

“We’ll see” he says, sitting down on the barstool.

They’d rented this apartment two months ago, after dating for a year and a half and finally deciding to move in together.

Living together, however, wasn’t as easy as he had expected it to be. It wasn’t the way he had imagined. Parts of it, yes, but a lot of other things had come into it. Things in which they didn’t agree, things they argued about and fought about. Even after all the wonderful things they shared, living together was more bad than good, or at least it felt like that sometimes.

For example, Stiles was messy and hated cleaning. Derek liked to keep things neat. Decorating the apartment together had been fresh hell. Stiles wanted to hang up posters, while Derek wanted to hang up photos – artwork. The discussion about vintage posters being art had resulted in slamming doors and screaming. They had agreed on posters in the living room and photography in the dining room, and they had made up the argument in the bedroom.

The next fight hadn’t been long after, after complaining about Derek’s ugly collection of coffee mugs, one of them had landed on the floor in a million pieces. Deep down Derek knew it had been an accident, Stiles wasn’t that petty, but he had still taken revenge by breaking Stiles’ mug collection. The argument in the store when picking out new mugs had resulted in a lot of stares and sighs by surrounding strangers. Mumbling under their breath and complaining about young love and bad relationships.

They had ended up with big white mugs that they decorated themselves with porcelain markers. Scribbled with quotes from their favorite TV-shows, a sketch of Derek’s eyebrows made by Stiles, and one decorated by Derek with a modern interpretation of Stiles’ butt.  Derek drank his coffee from it every morning, resulting is Stiles’ favorite joke about sticking his tongue in Stiles’ ass. On several occasions the comments had led to exactly that, and both of them being late for work. No regrets.

 

It was the same mug he was now holding, and he can’t help but look at Stiles as he takes a sip, taking in his expression as he clearly holds back the joke. Choosing to bite his lip instead. It stings just a little bit.

Stiles sips from the mug with Derek’s eyebrows sketched on them, his favorite. There’s a dick drawn on the bottom of the mug too, he can see it every time Stiles lifts the thing to take another sip. His argument was that he drew Derek’s favorite body parts on his mug, like Derek had drawn his favorite parts about Stiles on his mug.

“How’s your head?” Stiles asks, he sounds nervous.

“You look exhausted” Derek says, not answering his question and taking another sip of coffee.

“Yeah” he shrugs, “I haven’t slept in a while. Since you left, actually. Since you walked out the door screaming that – I don’t even remember what you said.”

“I – it’s not important” he shrugs, Stiles shakes his head, staring him down until he finally relents, “I said – that I was wrong for you…”

“That doesn’t even make sense” Stiles frowns, shaking his head. Derek remembers that afternoon he walked out of their place. There had been another argument – one of many – and it had spiraled out of control, the way it always does.

There was something about laundry, a red sock in his white linen. He had done the laundry, for Stiles. Because normally Stiles did the laundry, they had divided up the chores. But Stiles had been working the late shift at the sheriff’s department for the past week, and he was exhausted, so Derek had thought about doing him a favor and doing the laundry for him. Which turned out to be a big mistake. He had accidentally thrown a red sock into the basket, and had – without meaning to do so – turned Stiles’ white clothes pink. And worst of all, his uniform now had a pink shine to it.

He remembers loading the laundry out of the machine and freezing up, untangling the clothes to find the culprit and feeling his heart rise up and beat in his throat, bile rising up.

He’d removed the sock, and loaded it into the machine again, starting it up again in the hopes of getting rid of the pink shine.

When Stiles had come home exhausted from work at half past one, the uniform he was wearing was dirty, the bottom of his pants covered in mud, and by the looks of it someone had bled on his shirt.

He had smiled brightly when he saw Derek, already stripping off his shirt as he walked over and pulled him into a kiss. Then he had noticed Derek’s face, asked what was wrong and – well. He’d gotten mad, understandably, and Derek had panicked. Grabbed his suitcase and thrown in a bunch of clothes, shouting something about being wrong, and it being a mistake.

“I ruined your uniform” Derek whispers slowly, looking up to meet Stiles eyes.

“Yes, you did” he says, “So what? It’s just a uniform.”

“You were really mad” Derek says, biting his lip quickly and gauging Stiles’ reaction.

“I overreacted” he says, “I had a bad day.”

“There was blood on your shirt” Derek remembers, Stiles nods, a sad look in his eyes.

“We found a body” he says, “I was tired, and exhausted, and I really wanted to take a hot shower with you and crawl into bed – forget about the whole day. And then you were standing there, and I knew there was going to be an argument. And I really didn’t want one – and then you stormed out. You didn’t come back.”

“I forgot my key” he says, “I wanted to come back the moment I left. But I was scared, and I didn’t know if I could.”

“Of course you could” Stiles says, “You didn’t pick up your phone.”

“I forgot my charger” he says, Stiles snorts and shakes his head.

“Typical” he says, “You know I’m supposed to be the scatterbrain between us two. You’re the calm and collected clever genius lawyer.”

“Yeah” he shakes his head, “unemployed lawyer.”

“Between cases” Stiles corrects him, “There is most definitely a difference!”

“I guess” he bites his lip again, “I’m sorry.”

“I know” Stiles says, “Me too.”

He sets his mug down, after draining the last bit of coffee, and looks up at Stiles again.

“Last night – you said we’d be alright, eventually” he says, “You meant it?”

“We are alright, Derek” Stiles says, “We got something, you and I. I’m not giving up that easy. We had a fight, it got out of hand, we learn from it.”

Derek nods, and finally finds the courage to step forward and pull Stiles into a hug. He feels the tension lift from his entire body, his lungs fill with air, and a sense of calm dawn on his he hasn’t felt in days. Stiles wraps his arms around his waist, Derek drops his head on his shoulder and kisses him behind his ear. Stiles places his hand on the back of his head, sighing in relief and holding him there, until they both feel like themselves again.

“All we do is fight” Derek sighs, lifting his head from Stiles’ shoulder and gazing into his face with a sad smile. Stiles just shrugged.

“Yeah, we do” he agrees, “But I’d rather fight with you, than talk to or with anyone else.”

He places his hands on Derek’s face, pulling it towards him and kissing his lips, “And we always make up, don’t we?” he asks, Derek nods slowly, “I do _love_ when we make up. And I love you!”

“I love you too”

“Don’t storm out again” Stiles says slowly, “Promise me that you won’t storm out again.”

“I promise” he says, Stiles smiles brightly and all is right again in the world.

“Now, let’s go to bed” Stiles says, “And make up.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you like it.  
> Let me know, darlings!

**Author's Note:**

> I was listening to the song "Home" by Daughter (NOT DAUGHTRY), and I fell in love with the song again.  
> And I sort of wrote this. Not something I usually write, so, you know.  
> But I felt like writing it, and I did.  
> Hope you like it.  
> Let me know!!
> 
> edit: I am now listening to this song for the 10th time in a row. Please send help!


End file.
